When Ikaris and his companions left the inn a while later, they were all brooding, none of them taking the initiative to break the uneasy silence. The Warring Lands were different from what they had imagined.
As the name implied, emerging nations were continually at war with each other, the victors supplanting the vanquished, who were themselves quickly replaced by newcomers. Few immigrants managed to establish fiefdoms larger than a barony, and that was no accident.
This place was dangerous!
Deep in the Forsaken Lands, a wall twice as high as the Great Wall enclosed an immense territory ten times the size of the Earth. It was not to protect this blessed land, but to prevent a certain kind of evil from getting out.
The other name for the Warring Lands was the Rune Nightmare Realm. A bombastic name to describe a living hell that contrasted with the temperate climate, lush vegetation and abundant resources that this wonderland promised.
Orym had refused to go into details about the root of this evil, but in order to avoid any accidents he had briefed them on what awaited them if they ever decided to make a fresh start there. That was why, right now, each of them was carrying a thin grimoire about an inch thick in their hands, ready to protect it like the apple of their eyes.
"MOOO!"
A pleading moo suddenly resounded from the side of the inn's barn, startling them all. Ikaris drew his sword and ran to the source of the bellowing. But when he finally caught sight of what was causing the commotion, he went slackjawed, his eyes popping out of his head. Malia and Asselin did not react any differently.
In front of them a huge black bison almost as massive as a woolly rhinoceros was crushing with all its weight a poor motley cow half its size, humping her like there's no tomorrow. The poor victim was mooing non-stop, her front legs giving way from exhaustion because of the unrelenting assaults of the horny male hell-bent on restoring his herd.
Once the shock wore off, the youngsters pulled themselves together and Ikaris cursed,
"For goodness's sake! I can't believe we were worrying while that fucking bison was living his best life..."
Ellie immediately blushed and looked away.
"But that poor cow..." Malia muttered with a flushed face. "Why do I feel like she's calling for help!"
"Because she IS!" Asselin facepalmed as he mentally reminded himself to never let this perverted bovine anywhere near one of his future livestock.
The sedate Zaos was watching the scene from the sidelines with no concern whatsoever, but there was one person who seemed to be overly excited by this hardcore mating scene.
The breeder.
The little mustachioed man was wearing dirty old overalls over a brown checkered shirt, a pair of worn leather boots and a straw hat. By the ring on his ring finger, he was married. No doubt to the woman innkeeper who was twice as stout as he.
The little man was clapping and grinning like a child who had just received his Christmas presents, squawking and cheering like a coach supporting his favorite protégé.
"Come on Ginnie, hang in there a little longer!" The breeder whispered in the pitiful cow's ear as he sponged her muzzle with a clean towel. "Do it for our farm! Calve his litter and soon we'll have one of the best breed of beef cows in the kingdom. I swear you'll have the best hay in Hadrakin and a barn all to yourself and your future calves! Please, don't let me down this close!"
In response, the cow's eyes rolled back and she passed out. The buffalo stopped thrusting and looked around confusedly, its red eyes urgently seeking another target.
"Moooo!"
The rancher suddenly had a foreboding feeling. When the huge bovine looked like it was about to charge him for interrupting his grand moment, Ikaris' scolding voice saved the man from his predicament,
"Leave that farmer and that poor cow alone! I was wondering what I was going to call you, now I know. You have horns and you are... whatever! From now on you'll answer to the name of Horny. What do you say?"
The Demonic Beast tilted his head thoughtfully, then enjoying the sound nodded,
"Mooo!"
Years later, when his understanding of human language would become more mature, the bison would realize how screwed he had been this day. But by then it would be too late to change his name.
At that moment, they heard footsteps behind them and recognized Orym walking towards them accompanied by another Hadrakin soldier. This one looked a little different from the others.
His rugged, bald face was marred with scars. He was blind in one eye and wore a ranger's light, flexible leather armor rather than the bulky, flashy chainmail armor of Hadrakin's legions. The man had not a shred of fat, his skin reminiscent of the surface texture of dried wood.
"I present to you Radagad." The Magus introduced. "He is one of my most trusted men and will be your guide all the way to the entrance of the Warring Lands. If you have any questions or requests he will assist you to the best of his ability.
"Pleased to meet you." Radagad greeted in a husky voice as he bowed faintly.
"Likewise..."
Suddenly, panicked shouts rang out from the side of the ramparts and Ikaris' ears tingled. Several distant explosions sounded off in the west side of the wall, and one of the legions stationed near them sprang into motion like a well-oiled machine, marching along the wall straight towards the explosions.
"The Glenrings are already attacking?"
It seemed a little too soon. If so, the boy had underestimated them again.
Orym turned gloomy but showed no sign of panic, only grimness. The next thing they knew, a messenger on horseback screeched to a halt in front of them. He jumped off his horse and delivered the letter he was carrying. The Magus unrolled the parchment and his shoulders shook fleetingly as he read the message.
His face, hollowed out as if he had just aged 20 years at once, turned to Asselin Solostar and he said in a distraught voice,
"My brother Gaelin betrayed Hadrakin... He was the Magus in charge of defending the western section of the wall. I just learned that a few minutes ago my brother deserted his post with his private legion. The wall exploded right afterwards. What you just heard was the wall collapsing due to the explosions. The letter states that several million Crawlers immediately poured into the breach.
"It's as if they... expected it."
Everyone shuddered in horror. The amount of coincidence and misfortune in one day was just appalling. A few moments ago Asselin had accused Orym's brother of being a traitor and now the proof was right in front of them.
The common denominator of all the recent bad news was the Glenring invasion and it all started with the Great Wall being destroyed by a 5000-year-old Narvath.
"I'm afraid I can't keep you company any longer." Orym told them with a heavy heart. Seeing their worried faces he forced himself to smile. "Don't worry, a Rank 3 Kingdom is not so weak. I am not so weak either. Even if Hadrakin has to fall, we will fight like lions.
" Now, go!"
The old Magus gave Radagad a nod and the veteran bowed his head, placing his right fist over his heart in salute.
"Take care of yourself Milord."
Orym let out a thunderous laugh.
"Don't sweat it. Unless a Narvath like the one who destroyed the Great Wall shows up, none of these newborn Crawlings pose any danger to me. They won't kill me but I'll kill them all."
With a lump in their throats and a sullen mood, the group of teenagers set off, running after Radagad with Horny in their wake, but they were soon forced to stop when Zaos stopped moving.
"What is it?" The veteran growled curtly.
Hesitation flashed across the quasi-Body Sorcerer's face, but it was soon replaced by determination.
"I can't go with you." Zaos declared sadly. "I am a soldier of Hadrakin, but also a loyal Sorcerer to the Confederation. My duty is here."
Asselin wanted to say something to convince the youth to come with them, but when he met the Apprentice's resolute gaze he swallowed his words. Ikaris, Malia, Ellie and the bison had only known him for a few hours and couldn't care less. Without further ado, they bid him farewell and set off again.
'Good riddance.' Magnus exclaimed delightedly, his voice echoing in the teenager's head. 'Where we're going and given what we're about to do the less loyal hounds to the Confederacy we have on our backs, the better off we'll be.'
Because that was the only redeeming feature of the Warring Lands: the Confederation was not welcome there.
